The door swung in and a woman around forty with black hair and beautiful eyes looked at me suspiciously. A young boy peeked from around her wide hips.
I gave them both a smile and said, “Hello, ma’am. My name is Tom Miko.” I held up the business card. “I’m with the New York City Department of Education. I was led to believe that you have at least one student in a charter school, and I wanted to make sure you were aware of the opportunities available for students to return to New York City public schools. There might even be scholarship money available for outside tutoring and studies.”
She looked at me and then at the card, which I was still holding up. She smiled and said, “Do you mean Diego or Sabrina?”
“This is open to any student attending a charter school.” I had to make this convincing. I wanted to meet this kid or at least get a look inside the apartment. There was no way this would spook him.
I slipped the card back into my wallet before she could see that the real Tom Miko was a maintenance supervisor for the school board. I had talked to him months ago, when one of his employees backed into my city-issued police car. I have no idea why I kept his card.
The woman waved me into the apartment. I couldn’t help but do a scan quickly to make sure there was no threat right in front of me. The apartment was crowded, but mostly with kids. There were two other women around the same age sitting on the couch, each with two infants in her lap.
Four kids around ten years old sat in front of the TV, and a teenage girl peeked out of the hallway to see who was visiting. I wondered if it was some kind of an unlicensed day-care center. More likely it was just women helping out others in the housing complex and watching their kids while they were at work.
A crucifix hung on the wall next to the kitchen on my right. The Lord’s Prayer in Spanish hung on a plaque in the hallway.
Although the place was crowded, it seemed organized, and the children were quite polite and well-behaved. The woman who’d let me in now turned and said, “My son, Diego, goes to the special school for medicine.”
Bingo. This was adding up quickly. I said, “Is Diego here? I’
d like to chat with him about coming back to our school system.”
She shook her head. “No, he no study here. Too much noise. He like to study at the library.”
“Which library?” I could feel myself getting impatient. I didn’t want to sound desperate.
“He studies at college libraries. Sometimes he goes to main New York City library.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back here?”
Again, she shook her head. “He study a lot. He very smart. Going to college. Diego going to be a doctor.”
I kept a smile on my face as I thought, Yeah, sure. He’s already doing autopsies on live patients.
Chapter 21
Mary Catherine prowled the halls of Holy Name. She was in the newer section of the school, which housed the high school students. It was in the rear of the building behind the much larger elementary and middle school buildings. It may have been newer, but it was built in the timeless, dull beige style that hadn’t changed in a century and was common in most countries.
So far, on her mission, she’d only seen a couple of kids she knew. She had cookies that she claimed were for Shawna’s class, but she used them as icebreakers with the older kids. Just to ask a few quick questions. She didn’t want to be too obvious.
Everyone knew Mary Catherine at the school. It wasn’t unusual for her to be on campus. She often volunteered and helped with some of the younger kids’ classes. If you had ten students in a single school, there was always something to do, and the teachers were always happy to see you.
Today she’d visited Seamus at his administrative office in the church itself. She was just checking on him because he had been so distraught after Brian’s trial. She brought him some of the cinnamon rolls that he loved. When she was done, she left his office and entered the school grounds. No one noticed her slip onto campus. Easy as rain, as her mam used to say. The Irish have a saying for everything.
Mary Catherine sometimes worried that her Michael didn’t relate to teenagers as well as he thought he did. He was a great father, of that there was no doubt. But he was a father, after all. He looked at everything a certain way. Usually in terms of how it affected his children. All he cared about was safe, happy kids. Sometimes his values, like honor, duty, and ethics, seemed like they came from another era. Occasionally it felt like he had no idea what went on in the world of the modern teenager.
But she felt like she did. When she was growing up in Ireland, all she and her friends did was listen to American music, watch American movies, and act like what they thought Americans acted like. Once she got to the United States, she realized that teenagers here acted like teenagers everywhere. And it was difficult for their parents to understand them.
Even now, she watched MTV shows and other pop-culture entertainment at home. Although the channel was off-limits for the kids, she’d watch it during the day, when the apartment was empty.
She also listened. When Jane or Juliana was on the phone or just talking, Mary Catherine took note. They were both good girls, but apparently not all their friends were.
She was also younger than Michael and felt like she wasn’t far removed from the passions of youth—including music, the desire to fit in, and the stupid mistakes kids make without thinking.
She chatted with the few students she saw in the hall, and if they asked about Brian she used it as an opening to ask the questions she wanted answered. Questions she intended to have answered. Did they ever think Brian was selling drugs? Did they see him meet with anyone? Are any other kids doing the same thing? It could be awkward, but she had to act. She felt like she might be the only one who could help Brian.
Although the students knew Michael because he helped with their soccer and basketball teams, everyone knew he was a respected detective with the NYPD. He may have taken it in stride, but his job tended to intimidate everyone else. Especially teenagers.
Their view of police work had been shaped by TV shows and movies that made detectives seem tough and unpredictable. Brian’s troubles had broken through Michael’s tough shell. He just wanted his son back safe and sound. And Mary Catherine intended to help.